


Time Before the Comet

by posingasme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel & Vessel Interactions, Canon Compliant, Character of Faith, Episode: s04e07 It's the Great Pumpkin Sam Winchester, Gen, Hunters & Hunting, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-27 13:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5050975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jimmy Novak had a life before Castiel, even before Amelia and Claire. These are the events which transpired during Jimmy's life before and after being chained to a comet called Castiel. </p><p>Strangely, Sam and Dean Winchester featured in both.</p><p>[Prompt fill]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Obligatory Storm

**Author's Note:**

> The story begins while the boys are still teenagers. No hint of slash at that time.

It wasn't so bad until the rain started. Then it was miserable. The abandoned renovation suited his needs just fine most days, but when it rained, he felt sick for home. 

That was why he had stolen the road signs. The guy who had helped him thought it was just for fun, but he had chosen the exact two signs he needed. 

Flashes of lightning illuminated his dwelling, and he stared hard at the signs lying up against the wall. 

Pontiac 37 miles

Gregory Street -->

It was all the reminder Jimmy needed that he couldn't give up and go home. 

Gregory Novak was a good man. Everyone would say so. He was devout. He was conservative. He loved his family and his church, and he always kept God at the front of his thoughts. He did not raise his voice, merely his eyebrow, when he needed to make a point. He was old school. He wanted dinner on the table when he came home from work. He wanted homework done and chores finished. He required clean hands clasped in family prayer at the dinner table, and never a night went by that Gregory Novak did not pray for his wife and children's souls, and those of his own parents. 

Jimmy would never be that kind of dad. He couldn't imagine it. 

His older brother and little sister, they were the replicants. They were the ones who looked and acted exactly the way their parents did. Their mother Clara was already bursting with pride at what a wonderful mother Kate would be one day. And Greg...

Well, Greg was the son the Novaks always wanted. Hell, he was the son every parent wanted. Greg was handsome, confident, easygoing and hardworking. He brought home perfect grades, read just because he enjoyed reading, had a full ride offer from State, and just last season, he had broken Gregory's all-time record for three point shots in a single game at the high school. Greg, of course, was already six feet tall and mostly made of muscle and charisma.

James, on the other hand, was four inches shorter, wiry, and only alive because once they had the perfect son, his parents had wanted a daughter to complete the set. If Kate had been born first, Jimmy never would have been conceived. 

It is disturbing knowing one's existence is a failed attempt at something better. 

Now he was sixteen, sitting in a damp, dark, empty, half-constructed, half-destructed retail space, watching rainwater pool in the corner of the room, and listening to sirens sing in the distance, and all he could think to do was pray. 

"So, I know I've got no right to talk to you," he breathed out into the darkness. "And I guess there's not much that I deserve to ask for. But you gotta know I never meant for this to happen. And...and as far as deserving things go, you know my dad deserves better. I was never what I should have been, but I never stopped trying to be. I just kind of...And I never meant for this to happen."

He wished the noise of the storm and the sirens would quiet down. His head hurt so badly, he thought it might split open. 

"I can't do this to my dad, okay? So...so I need you to fix it. Please. I'm already such a disappointment; we gotta add this to the mix? I mean, Dad, he never hated anybody but the Devil all his life, you know? He wouldn't hate me. I just don't think he could ever...ever look at me again, you know?" 

Sobs began to strangle him, but he pushed forward. The boys down the hall couldn't hear him anyway, not with the storm and the racket outside. 

"I know I won't be able to look at him again. Not if you don't fix me. Greg and Kate are the ones they want. I don't...I'm never going to be what Greg is. Everybody knows that. I just...I'm just asking that maybe I could be-If I can't be what they want, could I be a little less what they don't want? I'm not asking for Greg to be less perfect, or for me to be...Is it too much to ask that I'm straight?" 

The humility was bitten back by the anger now, and he started pacing. "I mean, seriously. Is this just funny to you? Of course it is. You let marsupials evolve, didn't you? And amphibians. You think everything is hilarious. Of course you would think a guy wanting guys when he should be wanting girls is funny. It isn't! Not to me! And I can't go home till you fix it, so please! Fix it already!"

This was usually the part where Jimmy burst into lonely sobs and apologized, begging forgiveness for his temper, saying that he knew there was a greater plan, and that he was sorry for demanding things that he had no right pleading for. 

But tonight, there came a crash, and his prayer was forgotten in the instant chaos. 

Glass sprayed everywhere, and Jimmy flinched away from it. 

The broken window had an arm in it now, reaching through the shards for the lock, to twist it free. The frame lifted, and now there was a body crawling through it. 

"I got you," a voice just under a panic cried out. "It's cool. We're fine. Quick, Dean."

Far faster than Jimmy could have done it, faster even than the little guy they called Kid could have done it, two boys were through the window and inside, and Jimmy could see they had blood all over them. 

"Holy crap. Who the hell are you? What happened to you?"

At last, the sirens faded off. Jimmy had never loved math, but he could add two and two. 

"They looking for you guys?"

The smaller of the two boys glared at him. "We ain't bothering you."

The larger boy gave a heavy grunt and dropped to the ground. "Sammy," he hissed. 

The younger boy gave another protective glower to Jimmy, then lowered himself to sit on his heels. "It's okay. It's okay, man. Just some street kid." He smirked. "That or somebody's angel is out past bedtime."

Jimmy stared at this smartass kid who had to be four years younger than he was, at least. "Dude. I'm no angel. What's your problem? We don't need police in this place, you understand? I got five other guys camping past that door right there, and I'm not going to let you get them in trouble. So if you don't want me throwing your asses out into the storm, you better talk, and with some respect for the guy whose place you just crashed into."

The boy on the ground groaned. "Sam, just..."

It was all he said, but Sam seemed to understand. He sighed, shoved his hair out of his eyes and stood. He held out his left hand, since the right one was covered in blood. "Okay. Okay, fine. I'm Sam. This is my brother Dean. We were messing around out there, and we broke somebody's thing on their lawn, and they called the cops. We wrecked ourselves about a block back, ran into a pissed dog. So give us a bit of time to patch up. Catch our breath, you know?"

Jimmy frowned at him. This kid was an amazing liar. He had just lied right into his eyes, like it was the easiest thing in the world. He looked down at the other boy, and the frown deepened. "You're full of crap. But your brother is pretty hurt. Just...keep whatever trouble you're in away from the rest of us, and we'll be fine." 

Sam nodded, and dropped back down to give his attention to his brother. 

Jimmy stared at him a moment longer, then sighed. "Water bottles in the corner over there. And a few snacks."

The boy glanced back at him in surprise. "Thank you."

He shrugged, and backed toward the interior door to the hall that led to where his friends slept. He took one last look at the boys in the large room, and then he was off to find someplace dry to lie down. 

He couldn't help wondering what could be so bad that these boys thought the better story was an admission of trespassing and vandalism, and running from the police. And he had never seen someone mauled by a dog before, but that bigger kid's wounds looked like something else entirely. Something bigger and nastier than a yard dog had attacked that kid. Jimmy was sure of it. 

***


	2. The Surprise Offer of Help

The storm went from angry to grouchy, and a steady, miserable drizzle kept up all the next two days. Jimmy made one run out for some food from the shelter on Gregory Street. He was the only one who could pass for eighteen, after all. But for the rest of the time, they just sat, hungry and depressed, playing cards or sleeping. 

Other than to go in and grab some of their stash, Jimmy kept the interior door closed between the new boys and the rest of them. And neither of the new boys seemed interested in company. Jimmy fielded questions about them from the other boys by saying they needed to be left alone. 

Marshall slipped out on the third day of rain. He was never one for sitting still. Kid wanted to follow, but Jimmy made him stay, and gave him a job to do to keep him occupied. When Marshall came back, there was candy for Kid and cash for Jimmy. Nobody asked where it came from. 

"Get us some real stuff," Marshall ordered, slapping two hundred dollars in twenties into his hand. 

Jimmy sighed. He supposed it was better than Marshall using it on cigarettes or something worse. He shrugged on his coat, and started to leave, then thought of the boys in the other room. 

He slipped in quietly. 

"...looked all night, man. He's gone. He must be..."

"Don't you say it," the older boy growled. He was still lying against the wall. A layer of bloody clothes had been peeled off, but he still looked like a horror movie in 3D to Jimmy. 

Sam sighed. "Anyway, the bandages were pretty much all I could get. I'm not hungry anyway. Here. Eat another of these things. We'll pay these kids back. Right now, you gotta eat, Dean, and I can't risk getting myself caught by going out. I get caught, you die."

Jimmy's eyes widened. Sam had said that with such matter-of-fact surety, as if anything about this scene were normal. "If he's that bad, we should get him to a hospital."

Both boys turned to stare at him. But Dean began to laugh. It clearly hurt to do so, and it dissolved into wheezing before long. Then he spoke. "Ain't no doctor out there can heal this up."

Jimmy stepped closer. This was the first time he got a look at the boys in the daylight. He sucked in his breath through his teeth. "What the hell happened to you? That's...that's no dog."

"No," Sam sighed. "It isn't."

"Sammy!"

The younger boy threw a glower at his brother. "Who is he going to tell? Huh? You're dying, I can't find Dad, and that thing is still out there! Now tell me we couldn't use a friend!"

Dean's face was twisted into a frown, but he said nothing. 

"What thing is out there?" Jimmy asked quietly. 

"A pissed off gargoyle."

He stared at Dean. "A what?"

He huffed another laugh. "Gargoyle."

Sam sighed. "Generally harmless, or even helpful. They guard their territory from evil. But now and then, one gets screwed up, and starts to protect its territory from everything and everyone in the vicinity. And the worst part is they start to consider more and more territory to be under their protection."

Dean lifted his shirt with a flinch, and revealed a claw mark running across his whole torso. He tried to laugh again as Jimmy stared at the greenish bloody mess. "Think it might be infected?" he teased darkly. 

"Shit. That's...that's..."

"That's what this gargoyle is going to keep doing to people because we didn't kill it."

Jimmy's stare turned on Sam now. "That's...a lot of responsibility for an eleven year old."

Sam glared. "I'm twelve."

Dean laughed again, and then groaned in pain. 

The younger boy dropped down to check on the way Dean was bleeding through his bandages. "Anyway, some of us don't got a choice."

Jimmy nodded slowly. "And a hospital won't help?"

"Only thing that'll help now is if the thing didn't kill my dad. He'll know what to do."

"What about the police?"

"They can't help with this."

Jimmy shook his head. "No, I mean, why were the police chasing you?"

"Turns out climbing down the side of a cathedral in the middle of the night while bleeding profusely from your belly is a good way to get someone's attention. And it makes the police wonder what you're up to."

"Who knew?" Dean said bitterly. 

Jimmy had to shake himself. "Okay. Um, I'm heading out for supplies. Assuming I don't get eaten by a gargoyle, is there something you want me to bring you back? One of the kids...He found a little money."

Dean snorted. 

Sam sent him a warning look. "That would be great. I don't need anything, but this jerk has gotta eat something. Any kind of protein would be good. And...if-if you could find some clean towels? Washcloths or something."

Jimmy nodded and started toward the door. Then he turned again. "What about, like, cleaning alcohol?"

Sam gave him a real smile, and it made Jimmy happy to see it. "That would be awesome. Oh, and the gargoyle is only active at night. You'll be fine."

He hurried off to complete this task. He had turned into a frugal shopper in no time. Usually, it was a five dollar bill he had to stretch. Having so much cash was a luxury. He didn't want to think about how Marshall had gotten it. He had been on the streets a lot longer than the rest of them, but when he had found his way to the little hiding place Jimmy ruled over, he had submitted easily into the pack. Marshall seemed relieved to let Jimmy make decisions, to tell him what to do. Marshall was not the smartest kid in the group by any definition, but he was essentially fearless. Jimmy didn't think Marshall would ever hurt anyone, but he thought he might threaten to in order to get what he wanted. That was going to get them all in trouble some day. But today, Jimmy was glad to have some cash, and had decided not to think about where it had come from. 

He found the items requested by the new kids first, so he didn't forget. Not that there was a good chance of him ever forgetting such a strange pair. He bought a pack of wash cloths, and a little container of liquid detergent to wash clothes in. He found beef jerky and cheese packages, as well as some protein bars. He got a few boxes of those. The other boys would like them too. He got the rubbing alcohol and some cotton, and saw a small first aid kit. He would take that too. Wouldn't hurt to have one around anyway. Kid was always getting himself scraped up, sneaking into places like he did.

He found a tee shirt on sale for four dollars. It was olive green and hideous, but he figured it was better than the shredded thing Dean had been wearing so far. He got that too. 

There were soups and canned pastas, a bunch of shampoo, and a pack of water bottles. He wasn't going to waste his money on soda and junk, like he knew the other guys would. That's why Marshall had handed the money to him, instead of spending it himself. 

He threw in some extra peanut butter. 

He would keep the rest for an emergency. There was always an emergency. 

Especially now that there were gargoyles going mad in Normal, Illinois.


	3. The Bonding Scene

There were times in Jimmy's life when he found himself wondering how he had gotten himself into the situation he was in, and it seemed like, far too often, he was left with the conclusion he had just been stupid. He suspected that was how he had ended up in Normal in the first place, after panicking when that guy from the swim team had kissed him and he had liked it. And that was how he had ended up on the inside of the Normal Emergency Day Clinic in the middle of the night. He had no one to blame but himself. He was the one who had said yes. It was a habit he intended to break one day.

"Come on," Sam hissed at him.

"Do I want to know why a twelve year old is so good at breaking and entering?"

"I'm not good at it," Sam murmured. "I'm just...I know how, that's all." He laughed a bit as his hands worked on the lock to the interior door. "Dean, he's good at it."

"What's the difference?"

Sam smirked and pushed the door open. "Dean likes doing it."

For no reason, Jimmy found himself smiling.

He followed Sam inside the second door, and was careful not to touch anything. Sam was wiping everything he touched without even seeming to notice he was doing it.

"So you hunt monsters. I get that."

"You really don't."

Jimmy conceded the point. "Okay, but where do the cat burglar skills come in?"

"For times like this," Sam answered. "All the bandages you can fit in your bag. I'll get the other stuff. Your job is just clean gauze and bandages."

It was easy enough to do that. He watched Sam out of the corner of his eye as he grabbed items from a cabinet, seemingly at random, except that he put one item back after glancing at it further. Jimmy was glad they weren't taking things they didn't need.

"So what do you hunt? Gargoyles. Clearly. What else? Vampires?"

"Vampires are extinct. Wiped out by hunters."

Jimmy stared at him. "Dude, I was joking."

"And I'm not."

"Okay. What else?"

"Werewolves. Hunted a few of them this past summer. Nasty things. But mostly ghosts. Ran into a pack of ghouls once. They're probably the grossest. Dad took out a vetala one time. He and Dean do a lot of the hunting, and I do a lot of the research. But yeah. Mostly ghosts. Different spirits and stuff."

"Because there are different kinds of ghosts."

Sam launched into a lecture about every type of dead thing he had ever encountered or heard of, and Jimmy couldn't help how fascinating he found the boy. He wasn't sure he would have believed a word of it if he hadn't seen Dean's wounds himself.

"That's incredible," he caught himself saying over and over. "That's really amazing."

Finally, Sam stopped shoving things into the messenger bag at his hip and turned to his new friend. "You know what's amazing? The fact that you obviously got nothing wrong with you, you don't come from a family of freaks, but you're living in a place with five or more guys that doesn't have power or water."

"Every family has freaks, Sam. I'm the one in mine."

The kid snorted. "Seem normal enough to me."

"Yeah? I don't feel it."

"I'm a twelve year old who got attacked by a living gargoyle this weekend. Your turn."

Jimmy laughed quietly. "Okay. I might be gay."

Sam squinted at him. "Okay. I guess that's a big deal for some families."

"I think it's a big deal for all families."

He shrugged and went back to work looking at labels. "Not mine. Dad would just tell me I need to focus on the job instead of the guys at school. Same as he tells Dean about girls." He sighed. "Not that we ever have time to meet any. Guys or girls." He cleared his throat then. "Okay. I know how to break into a car and drive it, but I don't know who's supposed to yield right of way in any situation, because if we're so screwed that I'm the one driving, I'm not yielding to nothing."

Jimmy burst into laughter. "I once broke my ankle bowling. Seriously. Saddest, stupidest moment ever."

"I've never been bowling," Sam countered, and now there was a small smile peeking out. The kid waved Jimmy back out of the clinic, careful to wipe everything they had touched and seal it as well as possible. They skittered into the shadows and down a block before Sam spoke again. "I've only played video games at arcades."

Jimmy missed video games. "I once got in a fight with a kid in my church group over what the best Pokemon was."

"You did not."

"Yup. It came to blows."

Sam giggled. If they hadn't been carrying bags full of stolen medical supplies, anyone would think they were regular kids. But of course, the whole point was that they weren't. "I once got so pissed off at Dean that I wouldn't burn a bunch of bones to save his ass till he had apologized to me for not appreciating my contributions to the team."

"I once told a cheerleader at school that my brother Greg had spent three years in a mental institution, and that we thought the voices were under control now," Jimmy whispered.

The boy laughed. "I'm stealing that next time Dean's girlfriends won't leave me alone about how awesome he is."

"Worked for me."

"So I'm clearly a bigger freak, but you're not so normal. I'll give you that."

"Thanks? I think?"

Sam shrugged. "It'd be nice to be normal, though, wouldn't it? To learn regular kid stuff. Do regular kid stuff. I just...one day, I'd like...I just don't want to be the freak for once, you know?"

"Yeah. It'd be nice."

They walked along in silence again. Then Sam glanced up at him. "So you're really gay, huh?"

Jimmy sighed. "I don't know. I like girls. But guys..."

"There's such a thing as bisexuality."

"You really think that's a thing? Like...isn't that just guys who want to pretend they aren't gay?"

"Dude, of all the things I've seen, a bisexual guy wouldn't even make the unbelievable chart. It's a thing."

Jimmy nodded. "Maybe. Still scary."

"You know what's scary? Freaking gargoyles. You know what I still gotta go out and find if I don't want my brother to die? A freaking gargoyle. Don't tell me you can't face this thing if I can face that."

"Can you? Face the gargoyle?"

"Not by myself. I gotta hope my dad is still out there someplace, and he'll find the messages I left for him so he can find us. If he doesn't...if he's...if he's dead...I gotta do it on my own, if I can't find Dad in a day or two. Dean won't last much longer, and till the thing's dead, its poison from its claws still activates every night just like it does, till the victim dies."

"I'm sure your dad will be here in time. And he'll know what to do."

Sam nodded. "And what about you?"

"I'm going to think for a bit. I don't want to...If I go home, I gotta face disappointing my dad. I just don't know if I can do that."

"Kind of none of his business, right? I mean...do you have to tell him right now?"

"What if he finds out?"

Sam glanced at him. "How would that happen?"

"He's a teacher at my school."

"Oh. Ouch."

"Yeah."

They came to the place where Jimmy and his friends stayed, where Dean was waiting inside. Sam turned to him before they headed in. "Dude, I'm scared to death. But I gotta do what I have to. You gotta do what you have to. I'm twelve and a freak. You're bisexual and not normal. And one day we can go off to college and start new, but till then, we gotta deal with what we are right now. You know? Running away from it doesn't work. I've tried. So bide your time. Deal with what you are now."

"You think God's got a plan?"

Sam sighed. "Maybe. Yeah, I mean, I hope so. Don't you?"

"I want to be a better part of it. I want to be something more than just a regular guy. If I can't be normal, I at least want to be important. Does that make sense?"

The boy smirked. "Dude. That's the only thing that keeps me going. If I can't be normal, at least I can sometimes be a hero." He winked at Jimmy and hurried to his brother.


	4. The Flash Forward Chapter

John did show up in time. He was a large man, with dark, worried eyes, and more scruff than beard. He never took his left hand off of what Jimmy assumed must have been a wound. Sam had taken one look at him and smiled grimly. "Looks like you could use some patching too, huh? Come on. I got some stuff in here, what Dean hasn't already bled onto."

The relief in the man's face was overwhelming. "Both of you," he croaked out in a low voice. "Both of you alive."

"For now. Dean won't make it another night, sir."

Suddenly, the dark eyes flashed dangerously, and nostrils flared. "No, Sam. He'll make it. That stone son of a bitch won't."

"Yes, sir."

Jimmy shivered.

The new boys had left as soon as their father had been sewn up. In two days, Marshall had been arrested, and the gang had scattered. Two had run, and Jimmy would never know what had happened to them. Two had gotten themselves caught and sent home or into the system-back into the system, in Kid's case. Jimmy had chosen to go home on his own.

It was scary. But if Sam could face the gargoyle that had ripped his brother and father apart like that, Jimmy was determined that he could look his father in the eyes.

It turned out that Gregory was so glad to get his son back that nothing else mattered. There was a lot of praying, a lot of talk, and he and his father kept Jimmy's secret between them.

Jimmy was so grateful, he redoubled his efforts to be everything he knew his father wanted over the years. And all the while, he ached for some way to be important, some way to be more, even as he tried his hardest to be normal.

He had not thought of Sam in a very long time. On his twenty-first birthday, his friends took him to a bar. Jimmy was no champion drinker, by any means. He was usually the designated driver, in fact, and had sort of suspected he might be again that night, but the guys stepped up and bought him drinks. The last person he expected offered to stick to pop, and he was able to relax.

Or he would have been able to relax, except that his eyes kept straying toward a hulk of a kid by himself at the bar.

The only woman in their group leaned over to whisper at Jimmy while the guys all laughed over something he had missed. "I know, right?" she giggled.

"That's...that's a tall guy," Jimmy murmured without meaning to.

She laughed. "You're trashed, James."

"I am not. I don't get trashed."

She patted his hand. "I know. You're a good boy."

Jimmy turned to her, a little faster than he should have. "You know? You know, I am. I'm good. I'm good, right?"

"You're good, Jimmy. You've had four shots, and you're completely wasted. You're good."

"And a beer!" he protested.

"That was last night, Jimmy. And it was one beer."

"Still," he sniffed. His gaze wandered to the bar again.

"Pretty, huh?"

Jimmy blew out his breath noisily. "No. He just...reminds me of something."

"What? That you're into guys?"

"Shh! Stop!"

"If it helps, I think anybody would be into that. For example, I don't care for long hair, and I prefer guys I wouldn't have to climb to kiss. But I could make an exception for him."

"He's not twenty-one."

His friend rolled her eyes. "They card everybody here, Jim. Honestly, there's a gorgeous man there and all you can think about is if he's following the rules. Get up and go talk to him, Boy Scout."

Jimmy hadn't meant to get up, but now that he had, he thought he may as well figure out why the guy seemed so familiar. He walked slowly, so as not to appear drunk. He realized after he sat that he had forgotten to leave the socially-preferred space by choosing to leave a stool between him and the stranger.

The stranger noticed too. "You okay, buddy?"

"Not at all," he huffed out. "Sorry."

The man laughed and waved at the bartender. "I think my friend here needs some water."

The other man gave him an amused smirk. "That friend there is celebrating his twenty-first, and his buddies warned me to water his drinks. Apparently he's a Boy Scout."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Jimmy grumbled. "And what's that mean, watering my drinks? They're not plants."

The large man smiled at him kindly. "It's important to water your drinks, dude. Cleans it off first. You don't want a drink hasn't been washed. You should probably always order yours that way, just in case."

He nodded stupidly. "You look familiar."

"Wow. You're real bad at this."

"Bad at what?"

The man's face suddenly seemed to be reddening. Jimmy hoped he wasn't really drunk. Jimmy couldn't abide people with no self-control.

"Bad at what?" he said, because he wasn't sure he had said it yet.

"Oh, you're just...that drunk. I thought you were...Nevermind. Doesn't matter."

"Thought I was what?"

He shrugged awkwardly. "Sitting so close and...I guess it was like you were...hitting on me."

"Oh, God, no!" Jimmy sputtered. "No, no. No, not hitting on you. Never."

"No, of course-"

"Your face is entirely too pretty to hit. I'm trying to flirt with you." Jimmy pointed back at his table of friends, and his finger vaguely identified Kirsten. "She told me to."

The man's grin was gorgeous.

Jimmy shrugged, and sipped at the water that had appeared in front of him from somewhere. "You look familiar."

"So you say. Dude, you're hot, and you're a fun distraction but I'm buzzed myself, and I don't think it's a good idea to hang out. You know?"

"Talk to me till I figure out who you are." He squinted. "You kind of look like the dude from Gilmore Girls."

"What?"

"Nothing. I don't watch it. Kirsten does. My roommate. She's over there." He turned to point again, and nearly fell from the stool. Strong arms caught him and set him right again. "They should probably get these stools fixed."

"Probably." The guy cleared his throat. "So that's your roommate? She getting you home tonight?"

"I guess. She's not drinking. Not a roommate, like a roommate. We live in an apartment. You know. She has a room, and I have a room, and we're mates. Not like mates mates. Like friends mates. Apartment mates."

"Right. Well, I'm Sam. You're..."

"Jimmy. James."

"Your parents named you Jimmy James?"

"Why not? It's a good name. Not like Gregory or something, but it's...Biblical."

"The James that got his head cut off or James the Lesser, or James the brother of Jesus?"

Jimmy stared at him.

Sam cringed. "I'm sorry. I really am buzzed. It's been a day."

"What happened?"

He looked at him from under his wayward hair, and seemed to decide to trust him. "Nothing big. Got into college."

"I knew you weren't twenty-"

"Shh!" he hissed. "My ID says I'm twenty-two. Shut up."

Jimmy shook his head in disapproval.

"Anyway, I got my acceptance. Full ride."

"Congratulations."

"Yeah. Thanks. You're the only one that thought to say that." Sam looked down into his beer as it was sweating out on the bar. "My brother just went all pale, and he didn't even get a word out before my Dad started shouting. Leaving the family, betraying them all." He drained the rest of his beer with a bitter expression. "You leave, you better never come back."

Jimmy's lips parted in surprise. "Your dad said that to you? That's awful."

"Yeah. Nothing matters more than family, unless you're trying to get educated, and then screw you." Sam tipped his bottle again, then remembered it was empty and sighed. "I just want to be normal for once."

Something tickled at the back of his mind. "Normal. I lived there once."

Sam snorted, and put several bills on the bar. "Dude, you live there now. And you'll live there your whole life. So appreciate it, because some of us will never get there, no matter what we try. Have a good life, Jimmy James. Get home safe."

By the time pieces snapped together in his head, Sam had already walked out the door, and out of his life.

It was years later that he turned on the ten o'clock news to see bad footage of a man dragging Sam out of a burning building near Stanford University, and this time, he recognized them right away. But Amelia needed his help with Claire. So he simply said a prayer for his old friend, and hurried away from the television.


	5. The Handshake You've All Been Waiting For

Castiel had his orders.

For the past few centuries, something had been itching at him, though he had hardly understood what it meant to itch before taking a vessel. Something seemed wrong in Heaven. He wasn't there often, of course.

His garrison was stationed on Earth, to watch for the prophets, and to protect them when they arrived. That was clean work, done from a distance. Uriel hated being up close with the mud monkeys. Castiel found them fascinating as a group, but complicated as individuals. Even the prophets, Father forgive him, were often driven mad by their connection to the Divine, and could be exasperating.

He missed his captain. He would ever think of Anael that way; had she not been that for eons? Her choice to rip her grace from herself was unthinkable. It hadn't been done for so long...Not since the days of The Great War. Not since Lucifer. It made his own grace throb with pain and righteous fury that Anael had joined the ranks of the lost, the Fallen. They must despise her now, those who had loved her so dearly for so long. The Morningstar corrupted even from inside his dark cage, it seemed. They must all be more wary now.

And wary he was. Castiel had utter faith in the Righteous Man, and respect for him too, unlike Uriel and some of the others. Since taking Jimmy Novak, Castiel had learned that a vessel was not simply a vehicle strong enough to hold a celestial being, as Castiel had always assumed. Now he knew. And Dean Winchester was to be the vessel of Michael, the greatest of them all. Castiel had to respect that, even if Dean were not...exactly what he had expected.

Having faith in Dean did not truly explain why he needed to abide the demonic brother who followed him around, just waiting to corrupt him. It made no sense. So he was wary.

But he had his orders.

So when the motel door swung open, and he heard the bark, he waited in patience.

"Who are you?" Sam Winchester demanded, drawing his gun from his waistband.

Castiel could hear Uriel's amusement.

"Sam!" Dean shouted. "Sam, wait! It's Castiel!" He took a breath. "The angel." Then he frowned. "Him, I don't know."

Dean was watching Uriel, who was watching him. But Castiel looked into Sam's stunned face with interest.

 _He loves him._ The whisper blew like a breeze through his mind. _Castiel, he loves him. Your Righteous Man is Sam's everything. His hero. That boy would die for your Righteous Man, with no hesitation. If you have faith in Dean, have faith in Sam_.

Castiel stepped forward. "Hello, Sam."

The thing in him that was not grace warmed in appreciation.

"Oh my God!" Immediately, Sam's face took on a look of terror.

The thing in Castiel that was not him laughed softly. _He's afraid he's offended you._

Castiel was more inclined to think Sam was worried the angel would smite him.

 _No_ , the whisper told him. _Not this man._ _He's a good man, Castiel. And he believes_.

Sam was stammering. "Uh, I didn't mean to-sorry."

This time, Castiel felt a bit of the fondness himself.

"It's an honor! Really. I-I've heard a lot about you." The man was reaching out his hand in an odd way.

 _He doesn't know what to do_ , the whisper nudged. _This is the best he can do. He's trying_.

Then Castiel understood, and took the man's hand. It was surprisingly warm, and pleasant too. "And I you, Sam Winchester." He had seen humans greet one another this way many times, but had never been a participant. Dean, of course, had stabbed him in the chest upon their meeting. "The boy with the demon blood."

The whisper sighed at the flinch on Sam's face. _He's a good man, Castiel._

The angel looked down to see his left hand closed over their clasped rights.

Castiel had never realized that vessels could be more than physicality for an angel. Until he met Jimmy, until Jimmy had smiled and said yes, Castiel had never thought to appreciate the courage and faith and strength of character it took to consent to a being of near unimaginable power, entirely alien cognition, and completely unknowable intentions. Until Jimmy, he had not known a vessel's true gift was to lend its humanity. Perhaps other vessels did no such thing. But his was giving him a perspective he had never benefitted from before. He could feel the compassion, the fondness, perhaps even a strange yearning for this boy with the demon blood.

Even as he revealed the hexbag, and gave Dean their ultimatum, he listened to the whisper. It was slowly becoming more of a gentle insistence than actual words, communication without conversation. He suspected that within another week or so, he would not hear Jimmy's words at all any longer, but part of him hoped he would still feel his compassion. It was something his Father would approve of, he just knew it.

He was fascinated by the way Sam argued for the lives of the other humans in this town, the way these two men stared down Uriel in defiant strength. Jimmy showed him the way these two men were united in their determination to save the town.

Castiel felt a strange sensation, a pang of guilt and helplessness when Sam looked at them with a broken heart and irreparably scarred faith. "No," he cried, and though his voice was strong, it conveyed his horror. "You can't do this! You're angels, I mean, aren't you supposed to...You're supposed to show mercy!"

For the first time in a long while, Castiel felt the sting of doubt. It was painful, felt like someone were shredding a layer of his grace away. Was this what Anael had felt? He swallowed.

"Says who?" Uriel growled.

Castiel licked at his lips. He knew what their orders were. Things could go in a dozen different ways here. But most included smiting a town full of innocent creatures, his Father's beloved humans. He knew his orders. But he wished Uriel would not get so much satisfaction out of the horrible work they would have to do.

"We have no choice," he heard himself say.

"Of course you have a choice!" Dean barked angrily. At the same moment, Castiel could see the same thing in Sam's eyes, clear as if he were reading the boy's mind. And there was a third voice, a wisp of a voice, reverberating inside him.

 _Of course you have a choice, Castiel. Please_.

And he listened. Even as he argued with Dean, part of him still strained to hear the fading voice.

_Sam had all his choices taken from him, Castiel. You know that. I know it because you know it. The demon blood, the hunting, leaving school, losing everyone he loves, coming back from the dead, fighting for his brother and losing him to Hell, giving in to the demon that manipulates him...Yet he can still believe in choice, Castiel. And he believes in his brother. The Righteous Man will save us all, but he can't do it without his brother. He won't. Sam may be heading down a dangerous path, but please, please give him a chance. He and Dean are two halves of the whole which will save the world. I believe it with all my heart. Can you still hear me, Castiel? Please. You have a choice here._

He was not a hammer. He had doubts. And the memory of Sam Winchester's eyes as he pleaded for mercy increased the sting inside him. He had to believe orders from Heaven were just. If they weren't...What was it he was serving? His whole existence depended upon his orders being just. Dean was right. He could not follow them if they were not. The only order that made sense to him right now was to follow the instructions of the Righteous Man. And as much as it shocked him, the boy with the demon blood seemed to have a positive morality that helped keep his brother's strong.

 _You have a choice, Castiel_.

It was the last thing Jimmy would say to him, in words, until he was in possession of Claire Novak much, much later. And even then, even through the anger and pain, there was forgiveness flowing into his grace when he took Jimmy again and gave up the child's form. The internal struggle was poisonous to him, he had learned while back in Heaven. There could be only a single mind in control. But the wave of forgiveness Jimmy gave him once he entered him again touched him deeply, and he was grateful for the man's faith and strength, even after all that had happened to him. One day, he promised himself, he wanted to do right by the Novak family.

_You have a choice, Castiel._

Even long after Jimmy was gone, the whisper still breathed through him now and then. It spoke to him every time Dean needed him, every time Sam was in danger. And one day, Castiel found himself powerless, friendless and cold, in a body that was truly his own, and he stared up at the Heavens and did not recognize them as home anymore, and more than anything, he was so tired, and just wanted to stop fighting and let it all end. And the voice came to him, like an echo, like an old friend.

 _You have a choice, Castiel_.

And then he was standing over Sam Winchester, and he realized what damage he had done to the man when he looked at him and said, "You're not real." It shattered the remaining fragments of Castiel's heart. Having to tell Dean he could not fix this was devastating.

But then, from nowhere, for the first time in far too long, a voice came to him again.

 _You have a choice, Castiel_.

The angel reached for Sam, for the man who had been Jimmy's friend, for the man who had looked up at the sky and said that, for what it was worth, he still believed Castiel was part of this family they had made, this man who had given of himself a thousand times for no reward but the knowledge that he had done it. The man who had told him he was supposed to show mercy.

 _You have a choice, Castiel_.

"I'm sorry I ever did this to you," he said in genuine compassion he had learned, in part, from his time with Jimmy Novak.

As the damage and horror crept up from Sam's exhausted body to latch onto Castiel, for an instant, he touched part of Sam's soul, and it promised hope for a future Castiel couldn't believe would ever come. And in that instant, he truly burst with love for the man whose pain was to be his penance.

Perhaps the love, like the voice, was remembered, an echo from Jimmy. Or perhaps he had truly learned the emotion himself.

Either way, he knew in that moment before darkness and madness took him, that he would do anything, give up anything, for this man. Nothing would ever be worth losing Sam Winchester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you've enjoyed this. Please let me know what you think. This was a Nonny Mouse prompt, I think-I can never actually be sure. Lol. 
> 
> But there was also a teeny Easter egg sort of shout out to my lil fox-in-the-box reader, who has been faithfully reading my stuff for a while now-poor crazy thing. Hope you found it!
> 
> Comments are candy!!


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